Page 27 of Across Space and Time

Hugh frowned darkly. “That’s complete and utter bullshit.”

Ledbetter gave Hugh a pointed look. “I know that, and you know that, Hugh, but we have to play the game the rich people are playing.”

“Even if that means he gets away with murder?” Hugh demanded.

“That is not my call to make,” Dr. Ledbetter said, though he sounded highly apologetic.

Hugh sighed in frustration and rubbed at his eyes. “Nathan, do you believe in the supernatural?”

His friend looked up at him in surprise. “You mean, ghosts and the like?”

“Something like that,” Hugh said. “Ghosts, monsters, demons, any of that?”

Ledbetter stroked his beard in thought. “I’m a man of science, Hugh. Whether I believe in it or not, I’ve never seen a ghost or a demon, and the only monsters I know of are the human ones who kill other humans. Plenty of those around.”

“But do you think they could exist? That monsters, actual monsters, could exist?” Hugh asked.

Dr. Ledbetter sighed. “I think it’s a possibility. There is plenty we don’t know about our world. But whether they are running around the streets of London, well… That, I don’t know that I could believe as easily.”

Hugh nodded. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, smelled the blood in the air and the rot of flesh, felt the mind-numbing terror as those vicious teeth turned to him in the darkness, he might have agreed with his friend. Monsters and ghouls were for the dark forests and foggy moors, not the gaslit streets of London. But they were real. And Jack was real. He was alive because of that.

“I examined the contents of the viscount’s stomach,” Ledbetter said, gesturing to a glass jar filled with a gunky fluid that was tinged bright red with blood, and Hugh felt his own stomach squeeze. He quickly turned his eyes back to the doctor. “I found a fair bit of human tissue in it. Some pieces of organ, bits of bone. What I could distinguish matches the damage done to the young man found in the alley with him. But I found something else in his stomach as well.”

“Oh?” Hugh asked when it seemed that Ledbetter was waiting for his reply. Dramatic bastard…

“In addition, I found apple and pastry in it. Some sort of apple pie or cobbler, perhaps?”

Hugh blinked. “Apple pastry?”

Dr. Ledbetter nodded. “Yes. And remnants of alcohol and a half-digested meal of beef and carrots. But he would have eaten this pastry shortly before he died. Perhaps an hour at most. It was barely digested, like the human flesh.”

Apple was common, but it was a starting point. “Did you also finish the autopsy on the victim?”

“I did,” Dr. Ledbetter said, gesturing him over to another table. The youth’s soft blond hair was clumped with dirt and clots of blood, his eyes wide and staring at nothing, his mouth gaping open in a silent scream. He looked terrified, and, based on what he had encountered in the alley, Hugh could not blame him. Dr. Ledbetter gestured to the table behind them. “Not much remarkable about him, I’m afraid. A few coins in his pockets, and a small tin of hand cream. But I did find one thing interesting.” Dr. Ledbetter used a pair of forceps to lift something that was wadded up in a tight ball. He held it up for Hugh to get a better look at it.

It was a piece of gold paper. It was crumpled into a ball and nearly soaked through with dried blood. Only the corner Dr. Ledbetter held it by was clear of blood, with a greasy spot on it. Hugh frowned. “Where did you find this?”

“In the chest cavity,” Dr. Ledbetter said, gesturing to the young man on the table. “Not like he had swallowed it though. I am fairly certain it fell in there from someone bending over him, and it absorbed his blood.”

“Someone bending over him,” Hugh said with a frown. “You mean, like the murderer?”

“Plausible,” Dr. Ledbetter said.

“Did the viscount have anything like this paper on him?”

“No, but if he did, it’s also very likely it would have been destroyed when he ignited. I would guess that, if the viscount is indeed the one who murdered the young man, this fell out of his pocket after the chest was ripped open, and he was too distracted to notice it.”

“Too busy eating him,” Hugh mumbled.

“Yes,” Dr. Ledbetter said with a wrinkle of his nose. “That.”

“What sort of paper is it?” Hugh asked, examining it as best he could in the fading light from the window and the flickering gas lamps.

“As near as I can tell, it looks like decorative folding paper, but this grease spot leads me to think that it was perhaps used by a food stall or restaurant, to wrap around something,” Dr. Ledbetter said. “If it was recent, and not left over from some other time, my money would be on the apple pastry. Meat and potatoes seem an unlikely culprit.”

Hugh would agree with that assessment, though he had never seen a place that used gold paper such as that. Most places used simple brown paper, or even newsprint for greasy things like fish and chips. Of course, assuming that was the case, tracking it down might be next to impossible. Apples were a common ingredient, as was flour and sugar. There were hundreds of bakeries and food stalls just in London by itself, and that did not include the home bakers.

“Were you able to identify the victim?” he asked, motioning to the young man, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, as if he was shocked to be there. Blood spattered his face, but Hugh could see that he was young and handsome, like the other recent victims.

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